Square One
by hermin22
Summary: Everyone had fallen slowly back into their regular lives. However, years after the final war, Minerva McGonagall is suddenly forced to go back to square one.
1. Chapter 1

Square One

"Ron, you can't be serious!" Oh how Hermione wished he would be in the same house so that she could hex him into the next millennium. "I don't care that something came up! You made a promise to your son, for God's sake." She took a deep, calming breath. "Yes, I had plans indeed and no, it is no date, but I'd still rather not take a five-year-old with me." Anger made way for the well known resignation. "Whatever, Ron, but you tell him."

Not caring what her soon-to-be ex-husband had to say anymore, Hermione turned around to call her son. "Hugo!"

Mere seconds later, a brown-haired little whirlwind stormed into the room. "What?"

"Daddy wants to talk to you," Hermione said and handed the phone over, hating what she would have to witness next. Sure enough, Hugo`s cute little face fell at the news.

"But you pomised," the little boy pleaded, fighting the tears that started running down his cheeks but failing. "You always say that," he tried again.

Hermione knew it wouldn't change Ronald's mind. It never had. At least Rose was at Molly and Arthur's tonight for a sleepover and didn't have to deal with yet another disappointment. Hermione briefly wondered if she should bring Hugo to them as well for the night, but when her little boy melted into her arms after being let down by his father again, Ron unsurprisingly having ended the conversation, she knew she couldn't.

"He pomised," Hugo heartbreakingly whispered, big tears hanging on his eyelashes.

"Promised," Hermione corrected automatically. "I know, my little one," Hermione hushed and pulled him in her lap as she sat them down on the couch. "I know you are sad now, but the two of us will do something very special tonight."

Hugo sniffled miserably, but his mother's promise kindled his interest. "Yeah? What?"

Xxx

"Mummy, is this right?" Hugo suspiciously eyed the huge house in front of him.

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Whatever she had expected, this was not it. "Yes, I think so."

The little boy was still not sure. "But it is so big," he objected. "Does she really live here?"

Hermione squeezed the small hand in hers. "Well, she doesn't really live here, but she has to stay here for a while until she is better."

"Why is she not with her mummy when she is ill?" Hugo couldn't imagine not being with his mummy when he was ill.

A gentle smile graced the young mother's lips as she started to explain. "Oh, darling, she is quite old. I don't think her mummy is still alive."

"And her children?" If she didn't have a mummy anymore, there surely must be children. She must at least be a mummy herself.

"As far as I know, she doesn't have any children."

Hugo looked thoughtful for a moment. "She must be sad then. I don't like this house."

Hermione sighed deeply as she absentmindedly ran her hand through Hugo's hair. "I don't like this house either, darling. Not one bit."

"I bet she is happy that we come to visit her."

"I hope so, darling. I hope so." At least one of them was confident, Hermione thought, remembering how she had ended up here.

"_Neville, where is she and what's wrong with her?"_

"_I can't tell you, Hermione. I had to promise."_

"_Listen, Neville, you're a good friend, but don't think I wouldn't hex you, and I won't repeat myself." Hermione saw the sweat breaking out on Neville's forehead, and for a moment, he reminded her of the scared First Year she had known. She felt almost sorry for him. Almost._

_The young professor sighed."She's not well. Three weeks ago, she just collapsed in her office and she and she hasn't been able to move the right side of her body since then. Something not right with her brain, they said."_

"_A stroke," Hermione murmured, feeling sick to her stomach._

"_Sorry?" Neville didn't quite get what Hermione had said._

"_Where is she now?"_

"_I honestly don't know. You'll have to ask Filius."_

"_I can't tell you. She doesn't want visitors and made me promise not to tell anyone."_

"_She is all alone. I don't care about her damn pride! She needs a friend, whether she wants to or not."_

"_Are you her friend? I didn't know the two of you had stayed in touch."_

_Hermione felt a familiar sting at Filius' words. "To be honest, we didn't stay in contact as much as I had hoped." The old wizard was right. She didn't have the right to ask questions._

"_I'm sorry, Hermione," Filius said, not without regret._

_Hermione simply nodded and turned to leave. "Have a good day, Filius."_

"_Hermione," the old wizard called and waited until Hermione had turned around. "Have you been in Edinburgh lately?"_

_The young woman looked a little confused. "No, I haven't."_

"_It's a beautiful city. I recommend Leith street. From there, you have a wonderful River View." He winked at the still slightly confused woman and left. He knew Hermione was smart enough to figure it out soon._

Hermione smiled at the memory. River View Nursing Home, said the sign on the big, ugly building. Even from the outside, it looked sterile and impersonal. It was grey and at least five stories high. The walkway to the entrance was made of equally grey gravel, and there wasn't a flower in sight. No, she didn't like this building and what it represented.

xxx

Hermione took a calming breath. "I know she doesn't want visitors, but we are the exception to the rule."

The plump middle-aged nurse shook her head again. "I'm sorry, but she made it quite clear…"

Hermione was at the end of her patience. She had tried to be friendly, mostly to be a good example for Hugo, but she had spent three sleepless nights gathering her courage and trying to talk herself into coming here, and she wouldn't allow a semi-professional nurse to put an end to her efforts. "I will repeat this only once. You will tell me the room number right now or I will call the Minister and you can explain to him why you are deliberately unhelpful." Hermione hated to play this card, but sometimes it was necessary.

The nurse seemed to weigh her possibilities for a moment. "Seventy-six," she said, huffed and turned to leave without another word.

"Mummy, I don't like it here," Hugo said, moving a little closer to his mum.

"Neither do I," Hermione agreed. "I can't imagine anyone likes it here." A feeling of pity settled in the young woman's heart, and she felt sorry for all the poor people who were put in here, unable to leave and live alone.

Quietly, they walked down the bleak hallway until they hard reached number seventy-six. Hermione let go of her son's hand and after taking a deep breath, carefully opened the door. She immediately locked eyes with Minerva McGonagall. The old woman was limply lying propped up against the pillows in a bed. Her eyes widened when she registered that it was no nurse that entered her room.

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall," Hermione greeted, feeling her old professor's reluctance washing over her in waves. Hugo seemed to feel it as well, because he quite uncharacteristically hid behind his mother. "This is my son Hugo," Hermione introduced and slowly stepped into the room and pulled up a chair.

Hermione took a moment to look at her mentor and immediately noticed the slightly hanging corner of her mouth, typical for stroke victims. Leave it to Minerva McGonagall to become ill with something that is quite uncommon in the Wizarding world. A closer look at the older woman's features told Hermione that her mentor wasn't pleased at all with her visit.

"I know you don't want any visitors, but this time I decided to ignore your whishes. Professor, you've had a stroke. Your condition is nothing to be ashamed of, and I refuse to let you hide yourself away."

"no…of you..bussnes…" the old woman managed to slur. It was hard to understand, but Hermione had had some practice in the past.

Having heard the odd way the old woman was speaking, Hugo, who still stood behind his mother's chair, curiously looked at his mother. "Mummy, what is wrong with the lady?"

Still trying to get over the hurt that Minerva's words had caused, Hermione turned around to pay attention to her son. "This lady is Professor McGonagall," she explained.

"Pofessor Mäkona…" Hugo tried to repeat but gave up fairly quickly.

Not wanting to frustrate the little boy more after the debacle with his father, Hermione opted for the easy way. "Aunt Minerva".

Hugo moved to stand beside his mother's chair, carefully eying the old woman in bed. She didn't look very friendly, but then again, she was ill. "Why is Aunt Minerva speaking like this?"

Hermione sighed. She should have told Hugo a little more about Minerva before they got here, but somehow it hurt to even think about her, knowing that she was suffering like this. "Do you remember when grandpa was unwell?"

Hugo nodded. He remembered very well that his grandpa was in hospital and then in a wheelchair, speaking a little funny. "He had a stoke, right?

"A stroke, darling."

Hugo looked thoughtful for a moment, before he walked to the other side of the old woman's bed. If she was sick like his grandpa was, she must be sad, and he didn't like when people were sad. He laid his small hand on Minerva's cold, unmoving arm and looked up to her. "Don't be sad, Aunty Mina. I and Mummy is here to help you get well now. Mummy always makes me better when I'm sad."

There was a thick silence in which Minerva stared into the trusting eyes of little Hugo, and then it hit her more than ever: the horror of this disease nobody seemed to really know, the shame of being unable to move the right side of her body and being unable to talk properly, the loneliness and the overwhelming fear of what her future would be like. She covered her face with her left hand and started sobbing for the first time since she had woken up in hospital. Before Hermione could even process what was really happening, Hugo had managed to lift himself onto the bed without help, climbed over Minerva's legs and cuddled into the crying woman's side, offering her his own little bit of comfort.

* * *

_I am finally back with a new story. A big hug to my wonderful beta McGonagall's Bola!_


	2. Chapter 2

Finally catching up with the events, Hermione went to the other side of the bed. She lifted Minerva's unmoving hand and gently placed it on the old woman's lap, to make some room. Then she sat on the bed next to her mentor and put her arm around the still sobbing witch's shoulder, pulling her closer. She felt Minerva's weight resting against her, the lack of full control causing the old woman's head to heavily lean against her. Hermione reached up and gently started stroking Minerva's wet cheek. "Shh, I'm here now. I've got you," she murmured, hoping that Minerva would find comfort in her company.

Hugo slightly shifted his weight and cuddled a little closer. Minerva's arm had come around him, holding onto his solid warmth. It felt so good to have him close, to have his mother's soothing presence beside her as well.

The heart-wrenching sobs lessened and gave way to silent tears, gently being wiped by Hermione's warm hand. "I know you feel like this is the end, but I promise you, it isn't. I'll help you through this; you just have to let me." The reassuring words washed over Minerva. She wanted to believe that Hermione could help her. If the talented young witch didn't find a way, no one would.

"I help, too," Hugo reminded, somewhat displeased that his mother had left him out.

Minerva wanted nothing more than to lift her right hand and stroke his small face in gratefulness. The frustration and anger about her condition was about to settle in her heart again as little Hugo drew her arm, that was already around him, closer and started cuddling it. "Aunty Mina, when can you come home? I don't like it here."

Hermione felt the woman in her arms tense immediately. Hugo always had a talent for innocently putting his finger deep into the wound. Minerva couldn't go anywhere else, Hermione knew as well as Minerva. Hogwarts was no place for someone who needed so much support. Going home, if Minerva had one outside of Hogwarts, wouldn't work either, for it was not in a House-Elf's nature to act as a carer. A stroke was so rare in the Wizarding world that Minerva's options were more than limited. If she had a chance to improve her condition, she needed to go to a Muggle clinic. Deep in her heart, Hermione knew that she couldn't leave her mentor here to fend for herself, and somehow Hugo seemed to know that as well.

A new set of tears ran down Minerva's sunken cheeks only to be wiped by Hermione's thumb once more. "Hugo is right, Professor. We need to talk about your future."

Hermione carefully removed her arm, unaware of how much her mentor felt the loss of contact, and assisted her in sitting upright again. A talk like that was better held eye to eye.

"Professor, did you want to come here?" As unlikely as it was, Hermione at least had to ask. The careful shake of the older woman's head confirmed Hermione's suspicion.

"I see. Did you get any kind of treatment while you were here?"

Another shake of the head.

Hermione sighed deeply, all her fears being confirmed. They had 'parked' Minerva here, not knowing enough about her condition to do anything.

"Professor, let me explain what happened to you and how we go from here, if you agree. If I am not mistaken, and I don't think I am, you suffered something the Muggle world calls a stroke. A stroke is caused by a disturbance in the blood supply to your brain, due to which a person rapidly loses brain functions. What you're experiencing now are classical symptoms: the inability to move your right side and the inability to speak. What you need now is physiotherapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy. All of that is available to you in the Muggle world. While a stroke is very rare in the Wizarding community, it isn't rare at all among Muggles. You will need to go to a Muggle clinic for treatment, but I am confident that you will regain your speech and mobility of your limbs."

Hermione looked into the tear-filled eyes of her mentor, and Hermione knew what she was thinking. She tenderly cupped the old woman's cheek for a moment.

"Professor, I wouldn't tell you all of this just to let you down," Hermione tried to reassure. What Minerva needed more than anything now was hope. Hope and for once in her life, someone who was in charge of all the things the old woman didn't have the ability and energy to deal with right now. She needed a loving, welcoming home now.

"Hugo and I will go home soon, because I need a little time to organize everything and talk with Rose. Tomorrow we'll come back to get you and bring you home. From there, it will be easier to get your treatment in order and while the children and I as well can be quite exhausting, I hope that you will be more comfortable with us than in here."

Hermione fell silent, waiting for her words to sink in. There was a blank expression on Minerva McGonagall's face, and it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.

Just when Hermione opened her mouth to talk again, Minerva started formulating an answer. It was obvious that the elder witch had huge trouble with her speech and was reluctant to make that particular fact known. Hermione's heart went out to the proud witch.

"…an't…ask…you busy…ron…"

It was very hard to understand the slurred words, and right now, Hermione was grateful that she had had some experience with her father. She didn't want to think of how much more embarrassed her mentor would be if she had to repeat everything.

"You can't ask that, because I am busy and have Ron?" Hermione asked, just to make sure she got everything right.

Minerva slowly nodded and fixed her eyes on Hugo, who seemed to have fallen asleep in her arm. She didn't have the strength to look at her former charge.

Hermione watched Minerva struggle with her emotions for a moment. She couldn't imagine how incredibly hard it must be for the proud and independent woman to be reliant on someone else's mercy. Feeling a lump forming in her throat, Hermione reached for Minerva's unresponsive hand and lifted it in her lap. She held it between her hands and gently stroked the cold skin.

"You are right, Professor. It would be too much to ask," Hermione agreed. She paused a little to give her mentor a chance to comprehend her words. "But you are not asking. I made a heartfelt offer you just have to accept. Ronald hasn't been living with us for quite some time, if that is your concern. There is just me and the kids."

At the mentioning of Ron's absence, green eyes locked with light brown ones. The headmistress obviously didn't keep up with the yellow press.

Hermione used the moment to emphasize her words. "Please, Professor. Come home with us and allow me to take care of you until you are able to do so yourself again."

Minerva's eyes filled with tears again, and Hermione moved closer and carefully gathered the distraught woman into her arms, rocking her gently. "Please."

A heart-wrenching sob escaped the woman's throat. "Yes," she managed to choke out and felt the embrace tightening in response.

Hermione kept her arms around Minerva until she slowly calmed down. After what felt like minutes, Hermione drew back and started to dry her mentor's face. "I am glad you agreed," the young witch assured. "I will be back tomorrow to get you."

As much as Hermione hated to leave, she knew they had to go soon. There was a lot to organize until her home was ready to accommodate the headmistress. Not wanting to leave just like that, Hermione asked something she had always wanted to do, even as a pupil. "Would you like me to braid your hair?" Having seen her former Head of House a few times in her nightwear, she knew that the old witch usually wore her hair braided over her shoulder for the night.

An almost shy smile graced the left corner of Minerva's mouth. "…p..lease."

* * *

_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

_I hope you are all well! If you wonder who made that lovely image I use, I can assure you it wasn't my own talent. Lol So all praise goes to my brilliant beta McGonagall's Bola._


	3. Chapter 3

To Minerva, all of this seemed like a never-ending nightmare. She prayed to whoever was listening that she would just wake up and that all would be well again, but day after day, she woke up in this unmoving body. Every time she opened her eyes, she tried to move her right arm, right leg – Merlin, she even tried to lift the right corner of her mouth. And then …nothing. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move anything on her right side. She never tried to speak, though. It would be too painful to hear that stammering mess that was once her speech.

Then she glanced at the room she was in. It wasn't her tastefully decorated bedroom with its warm colours at Hogwarts. It was a small room in a godforsaken placed they called 'nursing home'. A bed, a small table and a chair were the only light brown furniture in a desert of white. Minerva had never been overly religious, but now she was sure that red wasn't the colour of Hell. No, it was this anonymous white that tried to appear innocent. What had she done to deserve this? Of course, there had been mistakes, but she had fought in three goddamn wars. Surely, she couldn't have been that bad in her life to deserve this worse-than-dead, long infirmity.

The realization had come only three days after that dreadful awakening in St. Mungo's: she would rather be dead than live like this. Nobody had listened to her. Instead, they had sent her to a nursing home. Just for a while, they had said, until she had gotten better. It was a shame, though, that even the most apt Healers hadn't quite known what was wrong with her. Filius had told her that they were still searching for a cure, but she knew they weren't. They had given up on her. Who could blame them? She had given up on herself as well.

Until today.

Miss Granger and her son Hugo. She had both held Rose and Hugo as newborns at the usual welcoming feast Molly always gave for a new grandchild, but since then she hadn't seen them anymore. She had thought about Hermione Granger quite often, but she had never sent out an invitation. There were so many excuses she had made for her lack of contact, but in the end, she simply hadn't wanted to burden a young wife, mother and upcoming journalist with any social commitments. Surely, if Miss Granger had wanted to stay in contact, she would have.

Now she had been there after all.

Just completely different from what Minerva had expected. Why had the young woman chosen to visit her now when it was pretty obvious that she must have had a hard time finding her at all? At the moment, it didn't matter to Minerva, because she had. She had found her, and in a matter of minutes she had managed to break through every single well-guarded wall Minerva had built to keep the reality at bay. Hugo had helped quite a bit, though. His innocent eyes, not judging her by the standards of her normal self but simply as she was now had been her undoing. And when he had climbed on the bed and cuddled with her as if he had known her for a long time, Minerva had felt the loss of the life she had known even more dearly. She hadn't even been able to give the little man a proper hug. He hadn't seemed to mind, though. He was such a sweet boy.

And Miss Granger? She had simply held her, not afraid of physical contact, not even reluctant to touch her unmoving arm. There was that distinctive Gryffindor courage some people still refused to see in the young woman. Too often had she been reduced to being the brain of the trio without anyone truly acknowledging how brave Hermione really was; brave enough to visit a former professor she hadn't stayed in contact with, knowing that she probably wouldn't be welcome.

And then she had made this outrageous offer. It couldn't have been planned, could it? It had seemed too spontaneous. Minerva's heart ached for the young woman and her outstanding kindness. She should have refused. It wasn't fair on Hermione to burden her with the care of a person she had only ever known as a professor, especially when she was a single mother. Merlin, when had that happened? And what had Hermione done to prevent it from being in every newspaper's headline? As much as she had wanted to refuse, in the end, she simply couldn't. What other option did she have? Her throat tightened at her own selfishness. It was so wrong that every fiber of her body had screamed to tell Hermione no. A tear rolled down her cheek, not only for herself, but for poor Hermione, too.

* * *

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far! I'm glad you're enjoying it! And of course, thank you very much McGonagall's Bola!_


	4. Chapter 4

"Mummy, why will that lady live with us?"

Hermione took her daughter's hand and lead her to the sofa. It seemed like she would have to explain the situation again. A quick glance to Hugo confirmed that he was busy, playing with his stuffed animals. Good! That gave her the time to take care of Rose, who had returned from her grandparents just an hour ago to find her home in a state of utter chaos. Hermione felt a little guilty, knowing it wasn't fair to Rose to simply inform her about the changes in their lives. It was a blessing that she took it so well. It might have to do with the fact that Hugo had offered his room. "Aunty Mina can have my room," he had announced. "I can move in with you or Rosie." Thank Merlin for his generosity.

Rose got comfortable on the large sofa and looked expectantly at her mother.

Hermione joined her daughter. It felt wonderful to sit after having worked all day. "That lady is Professor Minerva McGonagall, but you can call her Aunt Minerva if you like."

"She is the headmistress of Hogwarts, right?" Rose had been told all that before, but she wanted to make sure she got everything right.

Hermione nodded patiently. "That's right, love. Sadly, the professor suffered a stroke a little while ago."

"That is what grandpa had as well," she stated more than asked.

"Indeed. Now yesterday, Hugo and I went to visit her in the nursing home."

That was something Rose still didn't understand. "But why is she in a nursing home? Grandpa hasn't been in one."

"That is a good question. See, grandpa had grandma and his sister and us to take care of him when he came home. Professor McGonagall has no family left. She is all alone."

"But how can someone have no family?"

The wide eyes always brought a little smile on Hermione's lips. It was a blessing that the concept of having no family at all was still so foreign to her children. "Well, Professor McGonagall has fought in three wars and sadly, all of her family has been killed."

Rose's amber eyes were filled with a sudden sadness."Even her children?"

"To be honest, I am not sure that she ever had a husband or children, and I would like you to refrain from asking her until you know her a little better, all right?"

Rose nodded thoughtfully. "But why? Because it would make her sad?"

"Yes. She is very unwell at the moment and very unhappy with her situation as it is, so we don't want to remind her of sad memories, don't you think?"

"Hmhm, okay. So she will stay here because she has no family who can take care of her?"

Hermione was feeling so guilty. She needed and wanted to help her mentor, but it was a drastic change for her children as well. After having to cope with their parents' separation, it maybe wasn't wise to force this new situation on them. Well, it was too late for thoughts like that now. "Yes, my darling. I know this comes very sudden for all of us, especially you. I'm very sorry for that."

A look of determination settled on Rose's face. "That's alright, mummy. If she has no family, then we must help her to get better."

"Come here, darling," Hermione invited with open arms. She was incredibly proud of Rose and very touched.

Rose let herself fall into her mum's waiting embrace.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you, too, mummy."

"What do you think?"

"I like what we did with the wall colour," Rose praised and tilted her head to the right, inspecting their work. It had been fun to redecorate the room for Aunt Minerva.

"But she will be lonely here when we all sleep," Hugo complained. "Can I leave her my dragon?" His eyes lit up at his idea, causing his mum to smile.

Hermione ran her hand through Hugo's soft hair. She knew that Dragy was a favourite of Hugo's and it was very generous of him to part with him so that Minerva wouldn't feel alone. "I think that is a wonderful idea. I suggest you put him on the bed. He can wait there until we are back again."

Hermione watched him run into her bedroom and grab the small, green dragon she had given to him a while ago and place it on Minerva's new bed. She was quite pleased with the outcome of their work. They had moved all of Hugo's things into her bedroom, where he would stay for the foreseeable future. To give him enough space, Hermione had moved her bookshelves and desk into Minerva's room and let Hugo choose new decorations for her bedroom. It would be his room as well now, and as Hermione would only use it to sleep from now on, she wanted him to have it his way.

While Hugo was busy putting everything away in his new room, Rose had helped her with Minerva's room. They had changed the wall colours from blue with cars to the soothing Gryffindor red with golden ornaments. Satisfied with their work, Hermione had conjured a bed and a small wardrobe for Minerva's clothing. She had placed the two bookshelves from her bedroom on the wall opposite of the bed and the desk in the corner, facing it. It was unusual for a desk to be placed that way, but Hermione would still have to work and she wanted to be able to keep an eye on Minerva while doing so.

Hermione took a deep breath. Everything had been organized, or at least, Hermione hoped it was. She had talked with her children, made room in the flat, gone to the rehabilitation clinic her father had been in to discuss Minerva's treatment and borrowed a wheelchair. It was a bonus that her own doctor was married to a witch and had been very helpful when Hermione called and explained the situation to him. He would come to the flat if needed, he had promised, and Hermione knew she could count on him.

Now she stood in front of the nursing home, her children by her side.

"Mummy, how can Aunt Mina come with us when she can't walk?" Hugo inquired.

Hermione smiled at her son. "Do you remember the wheelchair we got earlier?"

Hugo nodded. How could he forget? They usually just bought food or clothes.

"I've shrunk it, and it is here in my bag," Hermione explained.

Rose, who had been quiet all this time, suddenly tugged at her mother's jacket. "Mummy when Aunt Minerva is headmistress, then she can do magic, right?"

Hermione nodded. She had spent a lot of time thinking about how her mentor's magic might have been affected by the stroke. She would have to talk with Minerva to figure out in what way her magic had reacted to the stroke. "Oh yes, she is a very powerful witch, but she can't do magic at the moment."

"Because she is ill?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Yes, darling. I think she will be able to do magic soon again, but right now she is too unwell."

Rose nodded her understanding and resumed looking at the grim building in front of her. "Can we get her now? I don't like it here."

Hermione snorted. Welcome to the club. "Yes, let's go."

All in all, Hugo was a polite and understanding child. What Hermione still needed to work on, was waiting for the usual 'come in' after knocking at a door. Already knowing where Aunt Mina was, Hugo knocked and burst into the room before Hermione had a chance to stop him. "Aunty Mina, we are here!" she heard him announce.

Hermione shook her head as she entered the room with Rose a moment later. They would talk about politeness when they were back home. Hugo was already at Minerva's bedside and about to climb on the bed to greet his aunt, while Rose stood close to her mother.

Minerva was sitting up in bed, just like yesterday, and grabbed Hugo's arm to prevent him from falling off the bed. Hugo didn't waste any time and placed a wet kiss on her cheek before getting comfortable next to her. "We are here to get you," he explained when the elder woman smiled at him the best she could.

"Good afternoon, Professor. This is Rose," Hermione introduced for the sake of good manners. For the first time, Hermione realized that she still didn't use her mentor's first name, but as long as Minerva didn't offer, she would remain Professor McGonagall.

"Hello," Rose greeted shyly, not yet comfortable with the strange woman in the bed.

Minerva gave her a careful nod, but seeing the look on her former charge's face, she knew that she was expected to try and say something. She wished Hermione would just spare her the embarrassment.

"…ello," she slowly and carefully formulated.

Hermione awarded the old woman's efforts with a warm smile. She gently pushed Rose towards the bed and leaned in to give her a small kiss on the forehead. "Are you ready to leave?"

Rose watched her mother exchange a few words with the old witch while her brother absentmindedly played with her sleeve. Rose had never seen anyone with such long hair. How would it look unbraided? She wondered if she would be allowed to brush it some time.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when her mother enlarged the wheelchair they had brought with them. She would have liked to help, but she didn't know how. A moment later, Hugo was sent to wait as well when her mum helped the woman into the chair. It looked a little difficult, and Rose felt bad when the woman groaned softly. Maybe it was because her arm hung down bedside the chair. Her mum was busy putting the lady's limp foot on the footrest, so Rose decided to help after all. Slowly, she moved over to stand beside the wheelchair and very carefully lifted the arm and put it in the lady's lap. It felt cold and heavy. When she looked up, she was almost startled when green eyes stared at her. Rose wanted to back away, but then the old witch tried to smile at her. She looked so sad, and Rose didn't want to be mean to her, so she stayed where she was. It wasn't the lady's fault that she was ill, and Rose knew that she shouldn't be scared, but she couldn't help feeling a little awkward.

"Rose, would you please stay with Aunt Minerva for a moment? I need to talk to a nurse, and Hugo is coming with me." Hermione was already at the door. She needed to inform whoever was responsible that Professor McGonagall would leave today, and she wasn't sure how well that information would sit with the nursing home.

Rose knew that she wasn't supposed to say no, even when she wanted to. Now she was all alone with the lady and didn't know what to say. She smiled politely and decided that she would try to say something comforting. "Don't be sad," the little girl tried. "Mummy and Hugo and I made Hugo's old room pretty for you."

* * *

_Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews! I am so sorry that I don't have the time at the moment to thank you in a PM, but work is crazy right now. _

_I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!_


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione had just opened the door to their small flat when Rose finally asked the question she had wanted to ask. "Mummy, why was the woman in the nursing home so angry?"

Minerva tilted her head a little, and Hermione knew that she wanted to hear about that talk as well.

"Let's go inside first and show aunt Minerva around, shall we?"

Hugo was the first to run inside, as usual forgetting to take off his dirty shoes. "Look, aunty Mina, this is your new home!"

Hermione smiled at her son's excitement and carefully maneuvered the wheelchair over the threshold.

Rose followed her family, closed the door behind her and dutifully took off her shoes. She moved to stand beside the wheelchair at a safe distance. She still didn't feel comfortable with the stern looking lady, but somehow she didn't want to leave her alone either. Rose wanted to tell the elderly lady that they would take care of her now, but when she looked at her, she saw a small tear rolling down the lady's cheek. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know the lady well, but she was feeling sorry for her. After all, because she was ill and had no children and neither her mummy nor Hugo seemed to notice that she was crying. After a moment of hesitation, Rose stepped closer to the wheelchair and placed her small hand on the old lady's, while she saw her mother run after her brother to take off his dirty shoes first. Rose didn't know what she should do next, but when long boney fingers wrapped around hers, she knew what to do. Keeping her hand in the old woman's, she turned to look at her mother, who was walking back towards them with a pair of small, dirty shoes in her hand.

"Come, mummy, I want to show aunt Minerva her new home now."

Minerva squeezed the small hand in hers, grateful for the sweet gesture. Hermione hadn't lied when she said there wasn't much space. It was a small flat indeed, and Minerva suddenly understood how much Hermione must care for her to invite her into her home. It was obvious that Hermione and the children had had to move closer together to make room for her, and she felt so guilty for imposing on Hermione like this. How was is it even possible for the children to welcome a complete stranger into their home and lives like this? Rose still felt a little uncomfortable around her, she knew, and who could blame her when Minerva felt uncomfortable with herself? All the more precious was the small hand in hers, so willing to comfort her upon seeing a sadness nobody else had noticed.

The little girl didn't let go when Hermione pushed Minerva through the flat while Hugo explained what room they were in. There was the small but very cozy living room, a nice kitchen with enough room for a table for four, a bathroom that was gratefully big enough to fit the wheelchair, a room that must have been Hermione's bedroom before Hugo moved in with her making it look much more like a playroom for children… and finally the room that Hugo introduced as "this is your room".

Minerva was touched beyond words when she saw how much love Hermione and the children had put into decorating the room. It looked lovely and nothing like her glum room in the nursing home. A lump formed in her throat, and she couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. Rose instantly moved closer, and this time, Hermione noticed the tears as well. She gently placed her hands on Minerva's shoulders. Hugo, who felt a little left out, wanted to comfort aunty Mina as well and took the dragon from the bed and brought it to the crying woman. "This is Dragy. He will watch you so that you are not alone."

Minerva let go of Rose's hand for a moment to wipe her tears and take the animal. It was so sweet of him to give his dragon to her that it brought a smile on Minerva's lips. The world was so simple for the small lad.

"Thank…yu..all," Minerva formulated troublesome.

Hermione gave the old woman's shoulders a gentle squeeze and addressed her children. "Darlings, please go and take off your coats."

Hugo immediately ran off, but Rose seemed reluctant to leave Minerva's side. It was so endearing that the small lass had warmed up to her so quickly. The elder witch lifted her hand and let it rest on Rose's cheek for a moment. "It…al…right," Minerva tried to soothe the girl.

Rose smiled at her aunt but looked at her mummy for confirmation before joining her brother.

Hermione knew that Rose expected her to take care of Minerva until she could be back, and Hermione had every intention to do so. Stepping around the wheelchair, she knelt down in front of her mentor. "Professor, it is time for dinner, otherwise it will get too late for the children. Would you like to stay in the wheelchair or lie down?"

Minerva didn't have to think long. As much as she would like to eat together with the children, her body had started hurting a while ago, and she knew she shouldn't overdo it. This was the first time she was out of bed for longer than a few moments since her stroke. "..thin…need…lie down."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "How about we get you comfortable in bed and the children and I join you in your room for a light dinner?"

The old woman smiled gratefully, and that was all the answer Hermione needed. "Very well," she said. "Do you need to go to the bathroom first?" It was a rhetorical question really, but Hermione knew how terribly uncomfortable Minerva should feel and wanted to spare her having to ask tonight.

Minerva knew she was blushing, but she couldn't help it. Dear Merlin, for the first time it really hit her how much Hermione would have to help her, and the embarrassment brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Hermione reached out and tenderly wiped the old woman's tears before taking her hand. "Please, Professor, I can imagine how embarrassed you are and how horrible this is for you, but I can assure you, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Soon it will be a routine for us and I don't mind at all." With the back of her fingers, she brushed another set of tears away. "It won't be forever, Professor. Tomorrow you'll start your treatment and step by step, your condition will improve."

Minerva locked eyes with Hermione's warm, brown ones, and suddenly, it felt so silly that the young woman still called her professor. A wrinkled hand reached out to take Hermione's. "…lease…call me…inerva."

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, trying to process what had just happened. Professor Minerva McGonagall had just allowed her to use her given name. Hermione was pretty sure not one of Minerva's former students was allowed to do so. "Thank you, Minerva. Of course you can call me Hermione." It felt odd to address the stern headmistress like that, but not unpleasant.

* * *

_Thank you again for all your lovely reviews! And a very special thanks to the wonderful McGonagall's Bola!_


	6. Chapter 6

Minerva groaned softly when Hermione adjusted the pillow behind her back.

"There, is that comfortable?"

The old woman nodded carefully. "Yes." It was obvious that the ordeal of getting ready for the night had taken a lot out of her. Now that she was lying in her bed, the emotional exhaustion seemed to take its toll. With her eyes closed, she asked, "…ehre…ar…the childn?"

Hermione pushed another pillow under her mentor's paralytic leg. "They are in the kitchen, putting too much cheese on their pizzas. I hope you like pizza."

The thought of pizza brought a smile to Minerva's lips. "Didn't…ave one…in yeas."

"Well, then it's about time." The young woman pulled the blanket a little higher. Minerva was already dressed in her thin nighty, and it wouldn't do for her to catch a cold on top of everything. The old woman's eyes were still closed, and Hermione allowed herself a tender smile. It was the right decision to bring Minerva here. Hermione reached out and lovingly brushed a strand of grey hair out of her mentor's face. "Rest now, my dear. I'll finish preparing dinner with the kids, and when it's ready we'll join you. How does that sound?"

Minerva reached for Hermione's hand and held it tightly for a moment. "Perfet. Than…you."

"You're welcome, Minerva. More than welcome."

"Mummy, what can I put on aunty Mina's piece?" Hugo wanted to know, a piece of ham hanging out of his mouth as he tried to chew and talk at the same time.

"Ewww!" Rose exclaimed. Sometimes her brother was really gross.

"Darling, please finish chewing first and then ask your question," Hermione reprimanded.

Gulping down the remaining ham, the little boy tried again. "What does aunty Mina like on her pizza?"

"I'm not sure. I think we try a bit of everything, apart from the pineapple. She doesn't like that." 'Isn't it funny how sometimes random information you thought long forgotten pops up in your head?' Hermione wondered. In her memory she could suddenly see the stern professor picking the pineapple from her toast Hawaii at the Easter dinner in Hermione's seventh year.

"Can't we just ask her?" Hugo wanted to know, causing his mother's memory to dissolve before her inner eye.

"No, darling. She is resting right now, and we don't want to disturb her. We must be mindful that she needs to rest much more than we do so that she gets better soon," Hermione explained.

"What is minful?"

"Mindful, darling. That means that we can't forget that she needs more rest than we do."

"But can she play with me? Like memory?"

Hermione smiled at her son's question. Memory had become his favorite game; probably because it was the game he won more often than any other games. "I am sure she can play with you, but you can't ask her too often and if she says no, you will be a good boy and leave her in peace."

Hugo nodded, although Hermione was sure he wasn't paying attention anymore. Instead he was already helping Rose putting onion on Minerva's part of the pizza.

"Mummy, can I put it in the oven now?" Rose asked. "I am hungry."

"Yes, you can and as long as the pizza is in the oven, you two pack your things for school and kindergarten tomorrow."

Hermione carefully pushed the door to Minerva's room open. The pizza was almost ready, and it was time to wake the older woman up. Sure enough, Minerva seemed to be sleeping soundly. Hermione hesitated for a moment to interrupt the much needed sleep, but Minerva needed to eat as well.

"Minerva," Hermione called softly. "It's time for dinner."

Slowly, green eyes blinked open and gradually focused on Hermione.

"Let's sit you up for dinner, shall we?" Hermione suggested.

The old woman nodded and allowed her former charge to put her bed up. For the first time since waking up in hospital, Minerva felt rested after having been asleep. The bed was soft and big, not unlike her bed in Hogwarts, and Hermione somehow knew where to put pillows for additional support. It was strange. She had only been here for a few hours, but she felt calmer, more like herself than she had in weeks.

"Than…you."

"Mummy!" The loud shouting from the kitchen could only mean that the pizza was ready.

"I'll be right back. I hope you are hungry."

It took less than a minute for Hermione to return with Rose and Hugo.

"Where do we eat here?" Rose enquired.

Hermione answered the question with a flick of her wand. A very low table appeared on the bed, along with several pillows.

"Cool!" Hugo had almost dropped the glass in his hand in excitement.

A quick glance at her former mentor assured Hermione that the older woman was pleased with the arrangement as well.

"Right, up with you two," Hermione addressed her children, took their glasses from them and put them on the table. "Hugo, you sit here," she explained and sat him on the bed across from Minerva. A few pillows in the back and the first child was comfortable already. Meanwhile, Rose had climbed on the bed as well and maneuvered herself next to her aunt without shaking the table too much.

"Ah, wonderful," Hermione praised her daughter. "Minerva, what would you like to drink? Water or can I persuade you into drinking a glass of wine with me?"

The old woman looked surprised. She obviously hadn't expected Hermione to allow her to drink alcohol so shortly after the stroke, but as she didn't take any medication, there was no reason she shouldn't have a glass of wine.

"Wine," Minerva said, a smile on her lips.

"Coming right up," Hermione assured and left with a wink.

"Aunty Mina, we made you a pizza with everything," Hugo explained proudly.

Rose was unsure if it would be alright to lean against her aunt's ill side, but she finally decided that it was worth a try. Very carefully, she moved a little closer to the older woman and let her shoulder rest against Minerva's. "We didn't put pineapple on it, though," Rose assured. "Mummy said you don't like that."

Minerva smiled and reached over to let her hand stroke the little girl's cheek. Both of the children were so endearing, so caring that Minerva already felt a wave of protectiveness for them.

The door opened again and the most delicious smelling pizza floated through the air in front of Hermione and landed on the table, along with plates and napkins. "Here we go," Hermione said and placed one of the two glasses filled with red wine in front of Minerva. A quick Stabilizing Charm later, Hermione settled on the bed as well. She had cut the pizza already, making it easier to eat in this unusual setting.

"Let's toast, darlings," Hermione invited and smiled at how eagerly the children raised their glasses. Minerva raised her glass more gracefully and looked expectant at Hermione.

"To aunt Minerva, the new addition to our family. May you recover quickly and always feel loved and cared for with us."

"Yes, to aunty Minerva," Rose responded, and Hugo added an excited, "Yeah!"

Minerva felt a little overwhelmed at so much openly expressed kindness. In her life there hadn't been much time for sentiments like that, and she still struggled a bit with accepting it without feeling embarrassed. At the moment she felt deeply touched.

As usual, Rose was the first to pick up her mood and put her hand on Minerva's paralytic right arm under the table, and although Minerva couldn't move the arm, she could still feel the girl's warming love.

"Than…you, my…dalings," the old witch replied. "To … famly."


	7. Chapter 7

"Alright, darlings, off to bed with you," Hermione finally announced.

"No, please, we want to stay just a little longer," Hugo pleaded, and Rose tightened her hold on an amused Minerva. The children had come in to say good night and had crawled into bed for a cuddle with her. It had been a wonderful evening. They had shared a nice meal, played a round of Memory and chatted happily about everything and nothing. It was just a simple evening like thousands of families had daily, but to Minerva it was so much more than that. When Hugo asked a question or Rose told her about her school, suddenly something other than her own current limitations was more important. Merlin, how could she ever repay Hermione for taking her in?

"Oh no, sweetheart. It is already past your bedtime, and you have to be up early tomorrow."

"That is unfair, Mummy," Rose complained.

Hermione nodded her motherly understanding. When she had been Rose's age, she had constantly thought that her mother was being unfair. It must be one of the simple rules of the universe. "Yes, I know. However, I am your mum, so being unfair is my job. Now say good night."

Minerva smiled at the children. It was a mystery to her why they seemed to like her that much. "Sleep…wel…my dalings."

Hermione noted pleased that Minerva didn't seem so reluctant to speak anymore. The children were doing her the world of good with their careless attitude. They weren't afraid to ask questions or make her repeat what she had said when they hadn't understood her. They would never dream of refraining from asking questions just because Minerva had trouble answering. They just waited patiently while she tried her best to formulate the words for an adequate answer. Hermione was sure that along with the specialist, the kids were the best speech therapists she could wish for, after all, practice was the keyword for regaining speech.

Hugo sighed dramatically and sat on his knees. Before Minerva could react, he had placed his small hands on the old woman's face and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek. "Night, aunty Mina," he said and yawned loudly.

Minerva couldn't do more than cup his cheek before Rose followed her brother's example. Being on her aunt's 'bad' side, she was more careful than Hugo when she kissed Minerva good night. "Sleep well, aunty Mina," she whispered and allowed Minerva to stroke her hair.

The warmth that suddenly filled Minerva's stomach was quite unexpected. How was it possible to feel so much affection towards children she only just started getting to know? There and then Minerva knew that if she ever got well again, she would spend her life making sure those two, along with their mother, were safe and happy. She would protect them until her last breath, if need be.

Hermione tried to figure out what Minerva was thinking, but never having seen an expression like that on the older woman's face, she couldn't read the emotions behind it. Before Minerva had a chance to notice that she was being observed, Hermione ushered the children out of the room. It was high time they went to bed.

Half an hour later, Hermione carefully pushed the door to Minerva's room open. She wasn't sure if her mentor would be asleep already, but when green eyes locked with hers, she entered the room. It was hard for her to get time with Minerva alone, with the children constantly buzzing around their guest, and she was glad they finally had some quiet moments together.

"Would you like another glass of wine or a cup of tea?" Hermione asked. She had prepared some herbal tea while the children were brushing their teeth and was going to have a cup now.

Minerva opened her mouth to answer but didn't manage to formulate the word. She started three times until she slurred a "…ea." Embarrassed, the elderly witch didn't look at her former charge.

Hermione's heart filled with sorrow upon seeing Minerva's struggle. It was obvious that she had problems pronouncing hard consonants like t or p. That was something the speech therapist would work on, Hermione was sure. What the observant young mother also noticed was that Minerva had less trouble with speaking when she talked to the children. While it was clearly a medical problem, there was probably a psychological side to it as well. It might be easier to communicate with the kids, because at least Hugo's speech was also imperfect due to his age. Minerva knew that it didn't matter to the children how she talked. They didn't expect her to talk normally, and therefore Minerva probably didn't put so much pressure on herself to speak flawless. Talking with someone who had known her before the stroke, a journalist to top it off, seemed to cause Minerva to put unnecessary pressure on herself, making it even harder for her to formulate words.

She didn't know how to approach the subject, but Hermione knew they needed to talk about it. She considered taking the chair from her desk and sitting beside the bed, but maybe the physical distance would create an emotional one as well, so she decided to join the old woman on the bed. Sitting across from her would mean Minerva would have to look at her. Seeing that her mentor had a hard time doing so, she would sit beside her on the bed, close enough for physical comfort and hopefully acceptable for the struggling woman.

Hermione summoned the tea from the kitchen and handed Minerva a cup before moving around the bed and sitting next to her. The old witch obviously hadn't expected that and looked slightly startled. She had hoped Hermione would spare her any additional embarrassment and leave her alone. No such luck.

The young woman sighed and took a sip of her tea. She knew Minerva would have liked her to leave, but they needed to work through this to help Minerva improve.

"I know you want me to leave you alone, but I think you need to hear what I have to say. If you want me to leave afterwards, I will respect your wish and go."

Minerva already felt awful for being so ungrateful. Hermione had done nothing but being outstandingly kind and considerate and certainly didn't deserve being treated like that, but before Minerva could utter an apology, Hermione started talking again.

"I don't know what it feels like to be in your situation. Nobody who hasn't been through this could really. What I know is what you shouldn't feel, especially around me. It breaks my heart to see you embarrassed every time you can't do something because of your condition. You survived something many people die from, and I couldn't be more grateful and happy about that." Hermione turned her head to look at her mentor. "Minerva, you are alive. You are alive, and I am confident that you will fully recover. Do you really think I care that you can't talk as you used to at the moment? That you need me for personal care until you can move better? Do you believe me to be that superficial? Merlin, I am a single mother with a failed marriage and the proof of my imperfection carved forever on my forearm. I have no right to judge anyone, and I have never in my life judged you and certainly not for something that isn't your fault. Something terrible happened to you and despite your own beliefs, that doesn't make you weak. I can understand that it is all new and terrible for you, but I need you to understand that you never need to hold back with me. This is your home for as long as you wish, and there is no reason you should feel embarrassed because you need help. With the children, my job and my daily tasks I can't promise you that I will always be able to read your mind. You need to tell me what you want or need. This can only work when I can trust you to express your needs without hesitation. I know you only just arrived here and everything takes time, but I would love if you'd feel comfortable around me." Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and took another sip of her tea. She hadn't planned on saying that much, but somehow it just came out.

Minerva took a deep, calming breath. Hermione's speech left her with so much to think about, with so much to answer to. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione rubbing the place where Bellatrix had scarred her. Although Minerva knew that it had happened, she had never actually seen it. She tried to reach over, but Hermione was on her wrong side, too far away to be reached with Minerva's left hand. "…lease come…my othe…side," she whispered as well as she could. This precious girl, how could she have allowed herself to lose contact with her? Minerva knew very well, that former pupils, even such as special as Hermione Granger, didn't just come by. She was a busy woman, and everyone knew it. Some were glad to leave her behind and the few exceptions didn't dare inviting her. She should have let Hermione know exactly how special she was to her long ago.

For a while, Hermione just looked at Minerva; then she stood up and moved around to her mentor's other side. The old woman patted on the bed beside her, hoping Hermione would join her again on the bed. Thank Merlin, Hermione had made sure the bed was big enough. Nodding her agreement, Hermione sat on the bed next to Minerva. The old woman sighed in relief and didn't hesitate to take the girl's arm and put it in her lap. When Minerva started pushing up the sleeve, Hermione knew what she wanted. The young woman wasn't comfortable with other people looking at her scar, but after the speech she had just held, she wouldn't tell Minerva not to. Instead, she allowed her to touch the reminder of her worst experience. The old woman kept her hand on the scar and gently let her thumb glide over it. "You…re no…impefact. You…re…bave an…kind. I'm so…poud of…you."

Hermione felt a tear rolling down her cheek. Minerva's words shouldn't mean so much to her, but they did. All her time at Hogwarts, she had always wanted to make her Head of House proud, but with the trouble she had always found herself in, she was sure she hadn't succeeded. Hearing those words from her beloved mentor meant more to her than Minerva would ever know.

Keeping her hand on Hermione's arm, Minerva slightly pulled, indicating that she would like Hermione to move even closer. For once in her life, Minerva was not ashamed to admit to herself that she needed Hermione's comfort and warmth now. Understanding what Minerva wanted, Hermione moved as close as possible, her side resting against her mentor's.

Now that Hermione was close, Minerva dared thinking about what Hermione had said. The girl was right, of course, Minerva knew. It wasn't her fault that she was in this situation and now that Hermione had so kindly taken her in, there was no room for embarrassment. She wanted to feel comfortable here, but being a stranger to live in a home like this and be part of a family unit would take a little more time to get used to. Merlin, she hated to be so dependent on other people. She felt utterly useless, but when she was surrounded by Rose and Hugo, she didn't feel as bad. Now Hermione had lectured her about letting go of the embarrassment and allowing herself to feel as a family member, she felt blessed to have this experience. She would be more open with Hermione from now on.

"Pleas…hold…me," the old woman whispered. This time was as good to start as any, and the reward for her openness was Hermione's heartfelt embrace. They didn't need more words tonight as Minerva gave in to her emotional exhaustion and slowly fell asleep in Hermione secure arms.

* * *

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I hope you still enjoy the story. As always, I thank my brilliant beta McGonagall's Bola._


	8. Chapter 8

Sometime during the night, after Minerva had fallen into a deep sleep, Hermione silently returned to her own room. The children would have to leave for school and kindergarten early tomorrow morning, and Hermione hoped that Minerva could sleep a little longer.

When morning came and Hermione woke the children, it soon became clear, though, that it was wishful thinking to let Minerva sleep. Rose and Hugo were just not used to being very quiet in the mornings, and although they tried their very best, Hermione was sure that Minerva was awake now.

"Are you ready now?" Hermione asked her children, her patience slowly waning.

"We have to say goodbye to aunty Mina," Hugo protested, his small lunch bag already in his hand.

Rose shouldered her school bag and nodded her affirmation. "Yes, we won't see her until tonight. It would be rude to just leave."

"Oh, very well," Hermione relented. "I'll see if she is awake. If she is still sleeping, we'll let her sleep, though."

The children nodded their understanding. It wouldn't be very nice to wake aunty Mina up, but they were pretty sure she was awake already anyway.

A careful peek into the old woman's room confirmed the children's suspicions. "Good morning, Minerva. The children would like to say goodbye before they leave for school. Do you mind?"

Minerva carefully shook her head. How could she mind her little darlings wanting to see her? The elderly witch fleetingly wondered if it was right of her to think of Hermione's children as 'her little darlings'.

"…elp me…up,… lease?"

Hermione smiled as she moved closer. "Of course," she said and put the bed up. She was barely finished when the children already rushed into the room with their cheerful 'good mornings'. Two heartfelt kisses later, Hermione managed to interrupt the get-together to see the children off. It wouldn't do for them to be late after all.

The slightly stressed mother let out a sigh when she finally closed the door.

…

"Good morning, Minerva. I'm sorry for the hurly-burly. I tried to keep the kids quiet, but I wasn't very successful."

"I was…awae…aleady."

Hermione's face became serious, and she carefully sat on the bed. "Why did you wake so early? Are you uncomfortable in this bed, or are you nervous?"

Minerva's expression was answer enough. "Don't worry. I will be with you all the time today, and I am sure you'll feel comfortable." Hermione placed a soothing hand on her friend's arm. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

The old woman stared at Hermione's warm hand for a moment before looking up. "I know. You…brought me…ere."

"That I did," Hermione agreed and gave Minerva's arm a little squeeze. "And I am very glad to have you here."

"The… nusing…ome," Minerva said, finally wanting to hear what the nurse had had to say.

"Ah yes," the young woman nodded, already knowing what Minerva wanted to know. "It was not easy to get you out of there. I wonder why, though. It is not that she cared about you very much, but I even had to threaten the nurse in charge with telling the Minister of Magic."

"She once…wa…my pupil. Sl…Slith," She had to start three times before she brought the word out. It took all of Hermione's willpower not to aid her mentor, but it wouldn't help the woman's pride, so Hermione opted for an encouraging smile.

"Slythein," Minerva finally managed frustrated.

"You think she wanted to keep you there to make you miserable?"

The older woman nodded carefully, and remembering the nurse's face, Hermione didn't have much doubt. "I…epelled…her."

"I see why she would try to have her personal revenge. Will you tell me what happened that you had to expel her?"

Minerva sighed. It was a long story, and although Minerva had no issues sharing it, with her current speech pattern, she didn't have any desire to tell it. "When I…can…alk beter."

Hermione nodded her understanding, instantly making Minerva feel better. "Fine. Shall we get you ready for the day now and have breakfast in the kitchen?"

"…lease."

"…is a…disgace" A look of utter annoyance graced Minerva's features.

"Minerva, I'm just cutting your bread. I'm not feeding you," Hermione tried to reason with the stubborn woman.

The old woman knew very well that she was unreasonable. "Still."

Hermione smiled amused. It was good that her mentor's temper seemed to return, even if only in small flares. She would be more difficult to deal with, but at least she would be Minerva McGonagall again. "Soon you will be able to do all that by yourself again."

The impatient witch looked doubtful.

Hermione sighed and covered Minerva's hand. "I won't lie to you, though. It will be hard work, and you will get frustrated, but it will be worth it."

The elderly woman looked out of the window, a weary expression on her face. What had she done to deserve this?

Sensing the change in her friend's mood, Hermione gave the elder hand in hers a gentle squeeze. "Hey, you can do it. You're not alone in this, and I will support you in any way you need."

"What about my magic?"

Hermione was surprised that Minerva finally wanted to talk about magic, as she had avoided that particular subject every time Hermione had tried to talk about it.

"I can't promise you anything, of course, but I am positive you will have access to your magic again after a bit of training."

"An… if…not?" A heartbreaking sob escaped Minerva's lips. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her magic, her very self.

Hermione engulfed her friend in a tight hug, somewhat grateful that the elder woman had finally managed to voice her worst fear. "You'll be able to use magic again. I'm sure, Minerva. You just need to allow your body to heal from the trauma of the stroke."

Even under Hermione's soothing strokes, Minerva just couldn't stop crying. The young woman hated the awkward angle Minerva's sitting position forced on them, but she couldn't let go. Not now that her mentor finally had opened up to her.

"And if you shouldn't be able to use magic, which won't happen, you will still have a fulfilled life here with me and the children. Whatever happens, you will never be alone. You have friends, a family, if you'd be willing to see us as such." Tenderly, she let go of Minerva and cupped her wet face between her hands and placed a small kiss on the elder woman's forehead.

"…hank you,…daling."


	9. Chapter 9

Minerva let her eyes wander across the unfamiliar waiting room. With its beige walls and friendly photographs of summer landscapes, it was not as grim as the nursing home she had been in – not at all – but still, it was a hospital. A rehabilitation center, as Hermione said. She had been in a strange, loud machine where photos of her brain had been taken, had talked with a very nice doctor, and now she was waiting to talk with a therapist. Thankfully, Hermione had kept her promise and hadn't left her side. It was odd how comforting the young woman's presence, a girl she had once taught at that, was. Hermione had asked the right questions and had taken the lead when Minerva was too overwhelmed with the situation, and for that, Minerva was eternally grateful.

The prognoses were good, the doctor had said, and Minerva believed him. Hermione had altered her entire life, and that of her children, to help her, and Minerva had every intention to honour this sacrifice by working hard to get her mobility back.

A soft touch on her shoulder interrupted the elder woman's musings.

"Are you alright? You are unusually quiet," Hermione asked worriedly.

"…musins…of…old…womn," Minerva replied, oddly touched that Hermione could read her like that.

"You are not old, Minerva. You have been thrown into a situation you have, despite having been through so much already, no experience in. You are scared and overwhelmed, weary and frustrated, but not old."

Minerva reached out to pat the young woman's hand. Hermione was right with the summary of her frame of mind, of course, and her understanding was a true blessing for the troubled woman's heart.

Hermione took her friend's outstretched hand between her own. "You're doing very well, Minerva. We will meet your therapist and then we go home and spend a quiet afternoon until the kids come home. How does that sound?"

In response to Minerva's grateful smile, Hermione placed a small kiss on the warm hand she still held.

"I'm ready for you now," a middle aged woman announced friendly, interrupting their little moment.

"Thank you," Hermione greeted and got up to push Minerva's wheelchair into the room where the therapist waited. She knew Minerva was more nervous than she let on, so she made sure to let her hand rest on the elder woman's shoulder for a moment.

It was a nicely decorated room with two large windows, allowing the sunshine to light up the area. Much to Minerva's surprise, there wasn't a desk to be found in the room. Instead, the woman lead them to a small sitting area with a couch and a small table.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," the blonde and rather small woman offered. "My name is Jane Miller, and I will be your therapist. You can call me Jane. " She held her slender hand out to shake Hermione's and Minerva's.

She eyed Minerva carefully, and Hermione had the feeling that the examination of her patient had started the moment she saw Minerva.

"You are Miss McGonagall?" she asked when Minerva offered her a hand.

"Min…erva," Minerva managed to answer and glanced at Hermione, obviously hoping that Hermione would explain the situation.

Taking the cue, Hermione shook the therapist's hand. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. If you agree, I will tell you what will happen here during the next few months first, and if you have any questions, I will answer them afterwards."

"Thank you, that would be nice." Hermione took it upon herself to answer. She had noticed the forlorn look Minerva's eyes had settled on after hearing the word months. It was hard not to make physical contact with her friend now, but Hermione was sure Minerva wouldn't be able to hold back her tears if Hermione touched her now. Knowing the proud woman, Hermione knew Minerva would never forgive herself if she started crying now in front of a stranger.

"As you may have heard, we have a different approach to the therapy system here than in most of the other rehabilitation centers. Our aim is to keep as many needed therapies as possible in one hand. That means in your case that I will be your only therapist. I will meet you every morning and do every necessary exercise with you until you go home. That will include speech therapy and ergo therapy."

"What will be your focus?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Speech and mobility training. We will start with sitting up and slowly move on to standing and finally walking. Additional training for the arm and hand mobility will be necessary as well as speech therapy."

"And how does it work? I bring Minerva here in the morning and when can I take her home? Will she be required to train at home as well and is there anything in her diet I need to think of?"

"You can bring her in in the morning at eight and pick her up at one. Training at home as well will be useful, but for the first few weeks, Minerva will be quite tired. A normal, healthy diet would be perfect."

It was not unusual for a first meeting that the patient didn't talk much. Most of the time it was the partner doing the talking, and Jane briefly wondered in what way the two women in front of her were related – maybe mother and daughter?

"It is normal that you are nervous, but I assure you, I will take good care of you," Jane addressed Minerva friendly, and Hermione bit her lip at the comment. It was obvious that Minerva was nervous, but it would be a small miracle if the proud Minerva McGonagall actually admitted it.

Sure enough, Minerva's reaction followed suit. "…I no…nevous," she said with a determination that would have convinced Snape to be a Gryffindor.

Jane looked skeptical, but thankfully simply nodded. "Very well, then. If you don't have any more questions, I will see you tomorrow morning."

A quick glance to Minerva told Hermione that she didn't have any questions at the moment. Surely the questions would come sooner or later.

"Thank you, Jane. We will see you tomorrow," Hermione answered and stood up. It was time to bring Minerva home.

* * *

_Back from my holiday. I hope you had fun with this chapter :)_


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione sighed deeply when they arrived home. Minerva hadn't said a word and her body language practically screamed that she wanted to be alone with her thoughts now. It was hard for Hermione not to press Minerva into talking, for it was not in Hermione's nature to be very patient, but she had done her very best so far to just keep quiet.

It was time for lunch, but Hermione had the feeling that her friend wouldn't want to eat right now. It was worth a try, though.

"Minerva, would you…?" She didn't even get to finish her sentence when Minerva interrupted her.

"I am…tied. Like…to sleep." The stern woman didn't make eye contact with Hermione, and the young witch slowly asked herself if she had done anything wrong. She contemplated asking Minerva but in the end decided against it.

"Very well," she said and pushed Minerva into her room. With practiced ease, Hermione helped her former professor into the bed. "Can I get you anything?"

The old woman slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. With a barely audible sigh, Hermione gathered her laptop and a few books from the desk. She needed to work on an article, and as Minerva seemed so keen on being left alone, she opted for the kitchen table instead of her desk. She was surprised when she registered that Minerva was trying to speak to her.

"…hat are you…doin?"

"I need to work for a while, so I'll go to the kitchen."

"You…desk is…here."

"Yes, but I don't want to disturb you. You seemed to…"

"Stay."

The request itself was more than simple._ Stay_. However, the message was more than a little confusing for Hermione, who was usually quite versed when it came to handling human emotions, unlike Ron, whom she had always suspect of having the emotional range of a teaspoon. Minerva's message seemed to be a mix of 'don't talk to me', 'don't look at me', 'leave me alone' and 'don't go'." Hermione smiled a little, suddenly thinking of her favorite TV show. "I am a woman, Mary. I can be as contrary as I chose." The longer she thought about it, the more she saw the alikeness between Minerva and the Dowager Countess. Yes, she would definitely watch Downton Abbey together with Minerva sometime. She was sure her former mentor would love the show. For now she just nodded and sat behind her desk. If Minerva wanted her to stay, then stay she would.

It was a good while later, maybe an hour or even two, until Minerva spoke again. Hermione had been so deep in concentration that she was a little startled at the sudden sound.

"I'm sory," the old woman apologized. "My…" There was a long pause, and Hermione could see that Minerva was trying to pronounce the word behavior, but it just wouldn't come out, no matter how hard she tried. In the end she gave up, clearly frustrated. "I was…no…nice."

Hermione quickly saved her work on the laptop and gently smiled at her friend. That woman was full of surprises. "That's alright, Minerva."

"No…alight," the stern woman argued.

Hermione stood up and moved to sit on her former professor's bedside but didn't make any contact. "Well, it is not alright, but I understand, and I am not cross with you. Is that better?"

The old witch nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, then hesitantly reached out towards Hermione, who swiftly took the delicate hand between her own and gently let her thumb run across the wrinkled skin.

"Now, I don't know about you, but I am hungry and ready for some lunch. Would you care for a sandwich as well?"

"Than…you," Minerva said and took another sip of the water Hermione had just handed her. For someone who had spent so many years in the Wizarding world, it was quite fascinating to watch Hermione work in the kitchen. They had just finished lunch, and Hermione was cleaning up a bit. It surprised Minerva that Hermione didn't use any magic at all, and she wondered if the young witch simply refrained from using magic as long as Minerva herself was unable to do so, or if she really used so little magic around the house.

Feeling Minerva's eyes in her back, Hermione turned around. "Is something wrong?"

The older woman was once again astonished at how perceptive her former charge was. "No…magic fo…cleanin?"

"Oh, well, I don't use much magic around the house. I try to teach the children to clean up after themselves, and it seems unfair if I do so by waving my wand and they have to do everything by hand." Brown eyes suddenly turned sad for a second. "I've put them through so much already; the least I can do is setting an example here."

Seeing Minerva's questioning look, Hermione sighed. "As you may have noticed, I had to take the proper family from them to safe myself. Sometimes I wonder if I was too selfish." Not wanting to have a talk like that in the kitchen, Hermione didn't give Minerva a chance to reply. "We still have some time before the children come home. Would you like to join me in the living room for tea?"

"Yes." Minerva tried to suppress the feeling of shame that wanted to settle in her soul, but she wasn't very successful. She had been so occupied with her own problems that she had simply forgotten to inquire about the absence of Ronald anymore. Every now and then, she had heard gossip about Ronald partying with other women, and there was the odd picture in the Daily Prophet, but no real scandal.

Hermione smiled mischievously when she took out her wand and sent the tea to the living room, to have her hands free for pushing Minerva. "The children aren't here, are they?"

The young woman pondered her options for a moment where Minerva would be most comfortable. Having made her decision, she enlarged the sofa to double its size. "I think this will do just fine. I'll support your back with pillows, and we'll make sure your immobile is leaning against the backrest. That way, you can't accidently slip from the sofa. What do you think?"

It was moments like this when Minerva remembered what a blessing it was to finally be with someone who could think on her feet. Noting that Hermione was waiting for her consent, she nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "If you….hel…me."

"As if that is in question," Hermione protested friendly and pushed the wheelchair into the right position for the transfer. They had done transfers from and to the wheelchair often enough to handle them smoothly. It didn't take them long to position Minerva comfortably on the sofa.

Minerva sighed contently, feeling safe leaning against the pillows. Hermione had covered her with a soft blanket and handed her a cup of tea before she had moved one of the armchairs next to the sofa so that she faced Minerva.

It was only a small victory for the elder woman to have conquered another room of the flat that was slowly beginning to feel like a home, but no matter how small, a victory it was.


	11. Chapter 11

"I just don't recognize him anymore, or better, – what he has become. Everything was fine when we got married, but after the children were born, he began to change. At first, I thought it was just a phase and tried to be understanding. Merlin, I found so many excuses for him." The sad woman shook her head in disbelief, thinking about how stupid she had been.

Minerva's heart painfully clenched when she realized how much Hermione had to cope with and that she hadn't been there to comfort the young witch she had always loved more than she should have.

"It couldn't have been more classic, Minerva. Lipstick on his collar, the smell of cheap perfume, late nights… I tried so hard to make him happy, to save our marriage for my children's sake, but in the end I gave up." A hollow laugh erupted from Hermione's lips. "Isn't that great? I'm a quitter now."

"You…not," Minerva objected and looked for a place to put her cup. It was so damn annoying that she could only use one hand when she really needed both.

Seeing Minerva's troubles, Hermione took the cup from her and placed it on the nearby table. She wanted to sit down again, but Minerva signaled for her to come closer.

"Come," the old woman said and held her hand out.

Hermione looked skeptical for a moment. She wasn't sure what Minerva wanted, and she wasn't very comfortable with her little emotional outburst. However, she allowed Minerva to take her hand. The stern witch pulled a little and Hermione moved closer to her and sat on the carpet with her side resting against the sofa, facing Minerva.

Hermione almost smiled when she looked at her former professor. Minerva obviously wasn't very happy with Hermione's sitting position.

"It's comfortable, Minerva," she reassured and slightly squeezed her friend's hand before she let go.

"Lisen cafully." Minerva wanted to scream in frustration about her limitations, but right now, Hermione was more important.

The young woman nodded and rested her head on the sofa against her motherly friend's leg.

"You are…no quitter. Never w…as and never…will be."

"But I…" Hermione started, but Minerva placed a finger over the young woman's lips.

"Seeing …re…reason is…no givin up. You too…pre…precious to end…like that."

A silent tear escaped Hermione's eye. "Like what?"

Minerva tentatively let her finger stroke the young woman's cheek. "Unhappy."

More tears followed and Hermione hid her face, her forehead pressing against Minerva's leg, slowly soaking it with salty tears.

Sighing deeply, Minerva let her fingers skim over her young friend's head and through her hair, gently scraping her skull.

It was such a simple action, but coming from Minerva, it meant so very much to Hermione. It was hard to live without any motherly support, and Hermione missed it dearly. Her own parents had never truly forgiven her for altering their memories. Hermione couldn't blame them, but it broke her heart that they didn't even want to see their grandchildren more than a few times a year. They had at least Molly and Arthur, and for that Hermione was more than grateful. It pained the young mother to see especially Molly so torn, though. She was Ronald's mother, and she loved him unconditionally, but Hermione knew that she was shocked by her son's behavior.

Slowly, Hermione's crying ceased, but she enjoyed Minerva's attention too much to move.

"Wha…about the…childen?" Minerva asked.

Hermione sighed deeply and slightly turned her head to look at Minerva, who hadn't stopped stroking her hair. "He isn't overly interested in them. He keeps making promises, but hardly ever does as promised. It is a mystery to me. You can fall out of love with your wife, but how can you stop caring for your children? They're so innocent, and it is so unfair to them. Rose is so disappointed that she doesn't want to see him, but Hugo still adores him. It is heartbreaking to wipe his big tears after his father let him down again, though."

Minerva could practically feel her blood pressure rise. How dare Ronald hurt her perfect little kids! Maybe she should pay him a visit once she was better. Oh yes, she most certainly would pay him a visit. She had always been able to scare the hell out of that boy, and she would be damned if she couldn't do it again.

Feeling Minerva's sudden stiffness, Hermione soothingly stroked the woman's blanket -clad thigh. She was very touched that the old woman was obviously very protective of her children, and it was good to know that even if their father failed them, they would always have Minerva's support. "Don't let him get to you, too much. He's not worth it."

Slowly, Hermione felt the muscles under her hand relax and let her head rest against Minerva's leg once more. "I've missed this," she whispered, counting on her friend's sensitive hearing.

"Missed…what?" Minerva carefully asked and returned her hand to stroke Hermione's soft hair.

"I don't know. You, I guess. Our talks, your presence, your comfort. That motherly figure I always looked up to, the woman who seemed to know and understand me better than anyone else. Did you know that even on the run, I've always thought what you would have done in a situation before I acted?"

Noticing that Minerva's hand had stopped the tender strokes, Hermione looked more closely at her friend. She was more than surprised to see big tears rolling down the elder woman's cheek. She quickly got up and sat on the sofa, facing her friend. "What is it?" she asked concerned and reached out to wipe the salty tears. "Did I say something wrong?"

Minerva caught Hermione's hand and brought it to her lips, shaking her head. She was too emotional to try and talk right now, and Hermione did what she always did when the stern woman got overwhelmed. She enlarged the sofa to sit beside her and gathered Minerva into her arms.

"I mi…ssed you,…too. So much."

It was then that Hermione realized that Minerva was not hurt. No, she was touched by her words. It was unspoken, but it was right there in the room with them. The question why they hadn't stayed in contact if they both missed each other was hanging in the air somewhere between them. Hermione had half a mind to voice it, but she decided against it. She already knew the answer, and she was sure Minerva knew it as well. Each had been afraid to bother the other. Each had been afraid that they no longer fitted in each other's life.

Hermione tightened her hold around Minerva and pressed a kiss on her temple.

The elder witch nestled in Hermione's arms the best she could and sighed contently. She was glad that her young friend wasn't talking right now and simply allowed her to rest.

Their moment was interrupted by a tapping on the window.

Carefully, Hermione helped Minerva to sit on her own again and went to the window at the back of the sofa. "It's an owl," Hermione said slightly surprised. She didn't get owl post very often. Hermione opened the window and made room for the beautiful barn owl. The elegant animal landed on the table and waited patiently for Hermione to untie the letter. "It's from Filius," Hermione explained and handed the unopened letter to Minerva. She went into the kitchen to get a little treat for the bird and came back with a piece of bacon. "Here you go," she said to the bird and gave it a last stroke before it flew off.

"Anything important?" Hermione asked as she went back to Minerva.

The old woman opened her mouth to answer, but thought better of it. Instead she handed the letter back to Hermione.

"Oh, he wants to come by tonight."

A glance at her friend told Hermione that she wasn't very pleased. "Don't look like that, darling. I'll be right here if you need me, and I am sure Filius will be overjoyed to see you. He was the one who tipped me off about your former residence, after all."

The old woman managed a half smile. It was true. Her reluctance to see him, or any other person, was unreasonable, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that Filius could have done more for her than allowing the authorities to put her into a nursing home. That was the law, though. If you were unable to decide for yourself, your family got to decide what to do. If you had no family, the authorities make that decision. Thank Merlin, Hermione hadn't cared about that particular law.

Sensing her friend's mood, Hermione returned to her earlier spot next to Minerva. "How about we lay down for a while?"

Minerva smiled a little and nodded her consent. Hermione just knew what she needed, often better than she knew it herself. She allowed the young woman to help her lay down and gratefully accepted the loving arms around her. Soon, Hermione's warmth lulled her into a peaceful slumber. Yes, she had missed Hermione an awful lot.


	12. Chapter 12

The shrill ringing of the bell announced the pending arrival of the children at home. Hermione opened the door and greeted each of them with a kiss. It took Rose and Hugo only seconds to realize that their new friend was comfortably sitting on the sofa instead of her room.

"Aunty Mina!" Hugo shouted and ran, as usual without taking off his shoes, to greet the old woman with a bear hug.

Rose, acting like a big girl, took the time to get rid of her school things and shoes before she went to greet Minerva. She felt special when the elder woman reached out to stroke her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss on her cheek.

Hermione, who had watched the scene from the kitchen, was amazed at how at ease Minerva was with the kids and how each of the children had developed a certain dynamic with Minerva. Little Hugo was like a small tornado. He never wasted time when he wanted something. He would rush to Minerva, give her all the attention he had and then storm off to another place. It was rare for him to stay by her side very long, for in his little world, he simply had too much to do. He needed to play with his toy cars, make sure his stuffed animals had everything they needed and on and on the list went. He only ever slowed down when he was tired or when he thought that Minerva was in pain. In that case he could be very patient and tender with her.

"Mummy," Hugo, who had finally managed to take off his shoes, interrupted Hermione's thoughts. "Can I have hot milk, please?"

"Of course you can. Please ask Rose and Aunt Minerva if they want some as well."

xxx

The day progressed with games and laughter, but Hermione could tell Minerva was a little tense. The kids really did their very best to entertain their elderly friend with tales of their school days until Hermione finally decided that it was time for homework. Rose didn't need much encouragement, but just like his father, Hugo needed a little more support. He wasn't stupid, not at all, but he was lazier and less driven than his sister. In the end, both kids started working; Rose at her mother's desk and Hugo in his room.

Hermione used the little time of peace while the children were occupied to clean the kitchen, hoping that Minerva would rest a little. Glancing into the living room, she sighed when she saw that her hopes had been in vain. Minerva seemed comfortable, but she was wide awake, the familiar lines gracing her face that always appeared when she was deep in thought.

Taking the can of water from the kitchen counter along with two glasses, Hermione joined the old women.

"Hey, it is quite a while since we've changed your position. Are you still comfy?"

Minerva nodded. "Yes,… than…you. Maybe… you could… put anothe… pill…ow in my… back?"

"Of course," the young woman assured and took another pillow from the armchair and adjusted it behind Minerva's back. Satisfied with her work, she took a step back and handed Minerva a glass of water, earning an amused grin. Minerva had long given up telling Hermione that she wasn't thirsty and when she was honest with herself, she had to agree with her young friend that she didn't drink enough.

"Careful; I'm going to lift your legs for a moment," Hermione announced before the elder woman could react in any way.

Before Minerva knew what was going on, Hermione had lifted her legs and sat on the sofa, lowering the elder woman's legs onto her lap. Absentmindedly, she started rubbing the tense muscles, helping the stern witch relax a little.

They sat like that for a while, each lost in their own thoughts regarding Filius' visit.

"Tell me what's on your mind?" Hermione didn't know why her elderly friend didn't look forward to the visit of her long time friend and colleague. She knew she couldn't push Minerva into talking, but it was worth a try.

Minerva turned the liquid in her glass and watched the graceful movement of the water, wishing it was something stronger. "Oh,… it… noth…ing."

Hermione nodded, unsure if she should just let it rest. In the end she decided that it was simply not in her nature to let go. "You appear a little too tense for nothing. Is it about your visitor?"

Minerva didn't say anything, but Hermione knew she'd hit the nail on its head. Taking a sip of her own water, the young woman inwardly grimaced. This wouldn't do.

"How about something more substantial?" She didn't wait for an answer and Accio'ed a fine single malt.

"You ar… a mind… reader," Minerva praised and held out her glass. The familiar burning in her throat as the whiskey warmed her from within soothed her somewhat.

Hermione followed Minerva's example and closed her eyes in pure bliss. There now. That was better. "Do you want to welcome Filius here or in your room? And would you like me to help you to the armchair or do you want to stay like this?"

"Oh, I, I…don't…know."

Hermione could see her friend was a little overwhelmed with making decision at the moment, and it sent a sharp pain through her heart. Minerva McGonagall, the esteemed headmistress of Hogwarts, was struggling at making simple decisions. Moments like that showed Hermione how much support Minerva really needed right now. It didn't matter though how much help she needed, she would get it.

"If you like, you could stay here and I'll make sure you won't be disturbed. I'll leave the whiskey here with you. You look like you might need it. You seem comfortable on the couch, so I'd suggest you stay where you and I bring the armchair a little closer to you for Filius. You look fine, but if you like I will take care of your hair and try to get your customary bun right. How does that sound?"

Minerva sighed in relief. It was such a blessing that Hermione was able to make sensible decisions on her behalf. "Thank…you, dalin."

"You're more than welcome, Minerva. If you need anything, just call me. I'll be in your room and ready to be at your side within seconds."

The old woman smiled gratefully and took another sip of her whiskey, and Hermione resumed gently massaging Minerva's calves. "You know you can talk to me, right? There is not a single thought in your mind you need to hide from me. I will respect it if you don't want to share your thoughts, but sometimes I think you've been alone for such a long time that you tend to forget that from time to time, voicing your thoughts alone helps to clear them."

There was a long silence, and Hermione feared that she had pushed too hard when Minerva finally met her eyes. "Sometimes I…foget…how wise you…can be."

* * *

_I know it's been too long, but life can be crazy sometimes._


End file.
